Lobster tails

I think I really do need to start describing some of the things I see here in South Beach. Right now for example, I am sitting at a bus stop having a glass of wine after working two shifts today; first as a busboy, then as a waiter. I find bus stops to be pretty good places to sit unmolested. It is Saturday night, and there is a pile of partial lobster corpses on the ground in front of the bench. There is a 50 gallon clear plastic garbage bag, empty, behind the bench. It looks like someone found a bag, or was given a bag of discarded lobster parts from a restuarant, and shucked through them here. Let's see, no claws, that makes them Florida lobster.

One reason homeless people get a bad name is that they often leave their trash where they create it. Since what they are consuming is usually discarded to begin with, they just sort of move trash around. And people who pay taxes pay other people to come and pick it up. So by a stretch, homeless people generate jobs. Police, medical, mental health... wasn't it Ronald Reagan who kicked out the chronicly mentally ill from the state institutions? Or was it George Bush? Someone did it, and now there is a clear subpopulation of "mentally ill" homeless persons who move trash around.

Earlier there was a good breeze, and I watched a used condom roll down the street. Pink. Don't know who used it, what gender, with what gender, or how long ago, but it looked fairly dry, so I would guess Friday night, not tonight. It will eventually make its way into a storm drain, into Miami bay, and maybe to the Atlantic where it can interfere with the lives of fish and coral. Unless someone picks it up in the morning.

Watched an afluent woman jogger yesterday freak out about a homeless guy deficating in an empty lot. She asked me if I saw it. I couldn't from my vantage point (at a different bus stop, having my morning coffee), so she was momentarily incredulous and jogged on, and hopefully told her friends about it at work, or that night, rather than stuffing it down inside herself. I actually did see him eat his breakfast, and amble off toward the lot...

Just a couple of the seedier things I enjoy watching, just to keep it interesting, and real. Sleep well blogland, everything is exactly as it should be, and we are all doing exactly what we are supposed to with what we have at this exact moment. Tomorrow begins a new day, and we all have a chance to make our little corner of the world a little better. What else would you want to do?

Responsibilities and Responsability

More than one person has commented to me in the last month that I have no responsibilities, and I feel like I may be missing some of their meaning. I'm kind of at a loss to see how my responsibilities have changed since I became homeless. I have a couple fewer bills, but I still have bills. I don't pay rent now, but I have to pay on the title loan on my truck and storage space rental every month. Atleast I am obligated to if I want to keep my truck and my things.

Responsibilities, to me, brings to mind being responsible to people. To family, friends, employers, and to/for yourself. I have no children. I am not married. So I guess I have fewer responsibilities than most people, but this was the case long before I thought about moving to Miami or becomming homeless. I want to go out on a limb and pose that the comments were made out of a belief that "responsibilities" make you a better person. I'm not sure that this is where any of the people who said this to me are comming from, but it kinda rings true. In that case "responsibilities" might mean something like having a "stable" job, owning a house, being married, and raising children.

I am in my late forties now, I've been divorced twice, have had two to three careers, depending on how you define the word, and am now quite happy with working in a restuarant and living in my truck. Many in normal society would call me a loser. I'm not anti-social, I'm extra-social, or maybe peri-social. I have chosen not to live by what is important to other people. I know I've talked about this already, but as I began redefining my values long before I moved down here, I started trying to explain this view point to other people, and I found it to be rather difficult. Communication is the burden of the communicator.

I want to live on a sailboat permanently, and travel until I feel like I want to stop. I don't want a career on land, I'm not inclined at the moment to have any children, and the only property I want to own, beyond clothing, etc., is a sailboat. That doesn't mean I am a flower-child, "living off the land", giving and receiving free love. No, a cup of coffee costs atleast 75 cents, and if I don't find something of value to give to humanity, humanity is not going to give me money to buy my coffee. Well, maybe I could beg spare change for coffee, but that's not where my head is either.

I value Quality and Service. I work hard and do a good job at whatever I do. I do it for myself, not for anyone else. That attitude, that I will do a good job, even if I can get away with doing a mediocre job, gives me pride and confidence in myself. I do things for others that no one will ever know I did. Not the recipient, nor anyone else. I do this because I believe in serving. I don't need the credit. If the world is a little bit better because of something I've done, then I get to live in a little bit better world. These are at the core of my existence, and have nothing to do with where I live or where I work, or even if I work. I also believe in walking the walk, not just talking the talk. I live what I believe, and let others get what they get from my example. Maybe I provide an example of what someone doesn't want to be. Maybe there are things that resonate with their own inner voice. I'm writing this blog because I don't expect to live through this again, and I want there to be a record. Also, because maybe some will find it interesting or enjoyable to read. I am human and make mistakes, I have ideals that I strive for, and fall short of. One of my favorite prayers I found on a bumper sticker. Please let me be the person my dog thinks I am. Remember, god is dog spelled backwards, and truth is where you find it.

So maybe wanting me to have responsibilities comes from loving me and worrying that my rejection of social values will lead to a rejection of moral values. Or maybe a fear that I will disappear from their lives.

When I was in my twenties, every fall, I felt an overwhelming urge to buy a motorcycle and drive to California. I resisted the urge, and my life has been what it has been. I recognize now that I am a traveler, the I Ching describes it as a wanderer. Its not romanticism, I just like meeting new people, seeing new things, and always learning. When things aren't always the same, its easier to find my own truth. So I'm not going to disappear, because relationships are important to me, and we have the internet and satelite telephones. And I'm not going to reject my moral values. On the contrary, this experience is making what is really important much clearer to me.
Among other things, one more spectacular moonrise. Time to go for a swim!

A quality life is self-sustaining

Ok, blogworld, I'm getting tired. I wasn't going to post tonight, but I just got an email from a very good friend who told me that she actually enjoyed reading this. It gave me strength enough to reflect on how many times I've felt like my whole being was focused on nothing but surviving the next day. I just feel like smiling and crying at the moment. I came into this world alone, and I will go out alone. And so far, god has been with me all the way. Between my own decisions to follow my instincts, and god's sense of humor, it has definitely been "a long strange trip". I pray that it will be this real, this raw, for the rest of my life. If I die tonight, it will be a relief, I will be happy with how I've lived, and there will be so many things I will feel like I've left undone. So please, keep it real.

The promoter at my restuarant, the one I have confidence in, the one who really is a big part of my decision to stay, was looking and sounding about as tired as I am today. He has let it be known to me that he is struggling almost as much as I am. I'm pretty sure he has an apartment, but I'm not really sure. Anyway, I lived with a woman like him once for a few years. These are people whose artistic medium is relationships and money. They create things. One other woman I knew once who did the same thing told me she was a problem solver, or wealth creator, or something like that. They don't work like me, or most of the people I know. They just do stuff, and get money for their work. My friend creates sucessful clubs. The woman I lived with did everything, anything. The other woman was essentially an investment advisor for Chinese investors in America. Anyway, they all work very hard to create results for rich people and get money along the way. I don't know how to do it, but I have a lot of respect for their abilities.

So I'm not alone in my misery. The owner is putting me on the schedule a day at a time. I'm working very hard most of the day, sweating like...fill in the blank...all day and all night, and I received $15 for Monday. Hey, it's enough to survive one more day without being too hungry. I have stuck to my end of the bargain for two days now. I'm still waiting to see if he does the same. One more new waiter, and a new bartender started today. I remain a busser, and I haven't heard from the other restuarant yet.

The next time I move, it will be to whatever place when the season is about to start. An old friend here who I met again shortly after I arrived, asked me why I came now. In the middle of off season. I did it because I'm not really much worse off than I was in Georgia, and once a month I get to see a spectacular full moon reflected on the ocean. I am finally back where I want to be, and when season hits, I will have established connections, a solid living arrangement, and a great job. And I have about two more months to get myself positioned that way. The move and the stress of changing cities is behind me. I am primed to kick butt. And you just watch, that is exactly what I am going to do. Sometimes though, you have to be patient. You have to take what you have and make the best of it.

So it's drizzeling now. I don't generally get more than six hours of sleep a night. I consume barely enough to cover my energy expenditure everyday. I have to drink mass quantities of water. Most of my immediate social contacts here see me as a homeless alcoholic. I am making no noticable progress in my job search. Yet, I'm not worried. Good things happen everyday. Small acts of good given and received let me know that I'm not alone.There is good, and as long as I create and live Quality, everything is, and is going to be okay.

Why I chose to be homeless rather than landlocked.

The sea dances slowly, wearing nothing but moonlight.

Negotiations

Well, today has been interesting. I am definitely spending a lot of time in my head at the moment self-justifying and self-bolstering, and I'll try to tell you about it as fairly as I can.

Just had a bit of a confrontation with the owner of my current place of employment. Yesterday, I told him I needed $100 for a bill that is seriously past due. That I understand and agree that I am only working for tips, but I have opened the restuarant every day for two weeks, for free, and I did not have good server shifts this week. Therefore, I would like to be paid $100 for the two weeks. He agreed, but didn't give me the money until today.

Tonight I waited to get my tips for the three most recent shifts I've worked. When he told me he was subtracting $100, I asked a new waitress, who is French, and very good at serving, to translate so I could explain my views and needs again. The owner and I both got a little frustrated and upset. I had to admit that I was sleeping in my truck, and even though he has bigger bills than me, I have no money for food. In the end he paid me for the shifts.

I told him I don't expect pay, that this was an emergency, and I would like to work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday double shifts as a busser, then as a server at night. He agreed, with the stipulation that I not smoke at work, and don't drink his alcohol after work. Seems pretty reasonable, right? So even though we are both under a lot of pressure, we expressed our individual viewpoints, and I hope came to an equitable agreement. I intend to uphold my end, and I have a feeling that he may do the same.

So tomorrow I only chew nicotine gum while I'm at work, and I don't get a shift drink. The shift drink is a pretty common, though not a universal practice. And honestly, I have abused the privelidge a couple times when the restuarant closes and becomes a club. I reasoned that giving me some free house vodka, which costs about $7/bottle was a small price to pay for quality service. Thing is, he didn't agree to it.

I'm still improving my understanding of this couple who own the restuarant. I'm still improving my understanding of myself. So, more humility today. Because of my behavior, the owners, bartender, and new waitress think I'm alcoholic, and now know I'm homeless without understanding the reasons. Maybe in time they will know, and maybe even respect what I'm doing. But for the next month or two, atleast, I will have to work hard to earn it.

I really don't worry too much about people respecting me. I don't accept abuse, and I don't have a lot of respect for most people anyway. I treat everyone with respect to the best of my ability, but again, I don't measure myself by the opinions of others. Yes, I have been drinking more than I want to. It helps me sleep in my truck, and deal with having very little money. I can hear someone saying "maybe if you didn't drink so much you would have more money". I respond that while this is true, part of being a healthy human being is creating a lifestyle that is sustaining. In a capitalist society, whatever you do costs money. I like to drink, write this blog, take photographs, meet new friends, and talk with old friends.

I spend $20 on my "binge" nights, usually only $3-$5. In my judjement, this is not outside of my budget. I recognize that I am creating a pattern of behavior that could become a habit, and self-destructive. And honestly, there is a small voice saying Edgar Allen Poe and Ernest Hemmingway, to name only two of the authors I admire, were both "alcoholic". But there is a stronger voice saying "I am getting healthier. Yes I am drinking now, and as I adjust my life to a more comfortable and sustaining routine, I will be drinking less, though I don't feel the need to ever quit completely".

So, I had to get over naming myself a homeless alcoholic vagrant. I had to think through my actions to be sure I didn't just con my boss out of $100. I am reminding myself of my voluntary obligations to not smoke at work, not drink there after my shift, and pay back the dollar I borrowed so I could buy cigarettes while I waited to get paid my tips.

The heat is the same, I got to sleep in the bed under the stars last night, but I'm expecting rain tonight. Fewer mosquitos in the cab, and the bites go away after a couple hours if you don't scratch. I'm going to treat myself to a slice of pizza tonight, 6 U$, I am down to my ideal weight now. Then I'm going to sleep hard. I'm tired.

What I learned today? If I make my needs known within the parameters of someone else's understanding of the universe, I can, maybe, negotiate mutually agreeable terms within a relationship. If I expect them to adapt to my universe, it's probably not going to happen. We'll see if I'm right or not. Still looking for a plan B...

Duhki

I think I passed the interview. I'll know before Thursday, probably, if I get a callback for an interview with the owner. I've also been considering staying where I am. Not because of resistence to change, but because I can see ways to change my schedule a little and make enough money. Being able to walk to work is a great advantage in Miami where the drivers are some of the craziest I've ever encountered. Not to mention the expense of gas, difficulty parking in Coconut Grove, and having to start at the bottom again. I will be talking to the owner of my current place tomorrow while I wait for a callback from the owner of the other place.

In the meantime, I am giving serious consideration to staying in my truck until I can buy the boat. There are many advantages beyond not having to pay deposits and rent. With a cap on the back I would have some privacy when I sleep, and I could brew coffee, maybe even cook without attracting attention. I've already mentioned the 12 volt power supply, any systems I install could be transfered to the boat, saving me money down the road. After living in my truck for a few months, moving on to a boat will seem like a luxurious upgrade. As opposed to moving from an apartment with 120 V power, hot and cold running water, and modern plumbing. And finally, I am much more attuned to the weather now than when I have a warm (or cool), dry place to stay when the thunderstorms roll in. My weather eye will be much keener after five months in my truck versus an apartment.

Its Saturday night on South Beach again. The drunks are just starting to come out, and it's pretty likely to rain. That means I'll be sleeping in the cab tonight, I will be hot because there's really no breeze, and it's pretty muggy from an hour of rain already. No worries though, I have a dry place to sleep and money for food. I would love to get some milk and chocolate cookies, but that makes me sweat two hours later, even in air conditioning. Don't think I want to do that to myself tonight, so I'll have a glass of wine instead.

Met a couple really cool people this week. A couple who, when you are with them, talking and making eye contact, make you feel like you are not alone in this world. People like that are important. It's not anything they say exactly, it has more to do with being present. When I am with them I feel like they are with me. Paying attention, and not worried about how they look, what they will say next, or what someone else is doing while we talk. That takes some self-awareness, and some self-confidence. I don't meet people like that often, and when I do, I try to keep them in my life.

It's not about collecting friends, it's about surrounding yourself with people, places, things that help you maintain the space you want to be in. The Buddhists say that one of the central realities of existence here is discomfort. Some people say "shit happens". I find that there is cool and not-cool stuff in my life everyday. Someone said that what you feed will grow. Am I getting my point across? I keep feeding the mosquito population, but it is entirely not deliberate. I pay attention to people who pay attention to life. I smile as much as I can because it makes me feel good. I drink good coffee, and enjoy my body through exercise, sunbathing, some drinking, and whatever else gives me pleasure. I don't scratch mosquito bites, gossip, or allow myself to be bored. I create when I can, and destroy as little as possible.

I haven't been able to confirm this with any hindus or buddhists, but I've read that the word for the pervasive unsatisfactoriness of life is "dukh". One friend, who is Indian though, confirmed that when you are sad, life is said to be duki. It is somehow validating that an expression I first learned in the army, meaning essentially fecal in nature, is "dookie". I guess if it looks like it, smells like it, and tastes like it, that's what it is. So don't step in it.

Love is all there is. Thank you again John, Paul, George, and Ringo... I don't think true'r words have ever been spoken.

P.S. I am sitting at a bus stop because I find they are good places to sit, unmolested, for long periods. It happens to be at a stop sign. A truck just stopped, paused. I looked, and noticed they were looking at me. They pulled away, and the girl in the passenger seat looked back and waved. Shit happens. :)

Why do I want to liveaboard?

I learned to sail on a small, freshwater lake in Indiana named Lake Freeman on a 16 foot jetwind when I was somewhere around 12 years old. I was immediately addicted. The thrill for me was being able to harness the forces of nature with physics to create locomotion; I could get across the lake without spending a dime, without consuming one gram of natural oil or gas. I was smart enough to know then that physics apply everywhere, and with a sailboat, I could go anywhere.

My truck is a little bit like a sailboat; cramped quarters, mobile, runs on 12 volts. Maybe that's part of why I feel at home in this lifestyle. I've been thinking about getting a top for the bed, putting a cot in back, getting a ship's stove and maybe a couple solar panels...

Today I actually got a callback from one of the places where I applied shortly after I arrived. It's not on the beach, it's in Coconut Grove, but its busy now. Meaning I could make money now if I could get the job. Coconut Grove is a little like the Florida Keys; there are no real beaches, lots of oceanfront properties, and lots of boats... sailboats, that is. And when I'm confronted with the possibility of the change that I've been hoping for, I get a little nervous. I want to live on the beach, I would rather walk than drive to work, the place I'm in is cool, if only it wasn't run so poorly... I could run it, maybe they'd let me manage...

But you know what? I need money. I need to work in a real restuarant. AND, god knows what I need before I do.  The same friend who suggested I start this blog just told me that blessings are comming. Kelly, blessings cascade over me every day. I am blessed with lessons that go straight to my core, everyday, sometimes it feels like all day. God is building me into something beautiful. And I have a long way to go, but I am so happy to be on this path.

So last night I got a healthy portion of humble pie. As much as I talk about love and acceptance and no worries, sometimes I still behave like a guy...read baby who needs... nothing, everything, mama's milk... just needs. That's what I'm trying to grow out of. We each have different ways of dealing with this generalized need. I'm not sure if it is universal for guys, I don't know if women experience it, or if maybe it's different for them. I may tell you later how I've dealt with it in the past, but not yet... and I probably need to talk about what god is to me, but again, not yet. We don't know each other well enough yet.  :)

One thing I don't like about my current lifestyle is that I rarely get to sit down and be comfortable. I think it's a conspiracy to get us homeless folks to leave... deprive them of comfort. Does putting little ridges on all public benches improve the quality of life of regular home owners? Don't think so...

More later, need to sleep so I can interview without the bags under my eyes being too big. Tip: preperation H is supposed to help with those ugly bags...sleep well, and listen to reggae whenever you can.

Oh yeah, why I want to liveaboard.... freedom, man. Why else?

Bivouac

So I'm kind of starting to like this homeless thing. It's like camping, or really, more like a bivouac (one definition is a nest constructed out of the own worker ant's bodies). I'm making a nest out of the carcasses of my own belief system.

The worst part is the mosquitos, then no outlet to plug in my coffee maker, then the heat. Now I'm a pretty resourceful guy, and I bet, now that I've identified my major stresses, I can make things a little better. At least concerning the first two. The heat is a fact of life in the daytime in August in Miami, just like tropical storms, one more stressor. It's not the heat exactly, I drink A LOT of water, and wear a hat when I walk more than three blocks in the sun. As an aside, symptoms of dehydration; painful and dark, infrequent, urination. The stress is the sweating and the accompanying wet smell that can get offensive after you've worn the same shorts for three or four days. (I change underwear frequently, and bathe in some way everyday at least once, whether I need it or not :) . So let's see... more shorts, some very light weight sleeping clothes, and more work clothing because doing laundry is something I don't have a lot of time to do, and I'm sure not going to pay someone else to do it.

Now I'm not only working seven days a week, four of them are doubles, and one of those is a triple! Its not as bad as it sounds though, because, one, I'm not on the clock, so I can take off anytime, and two, I am a great hospitality manager, so I know when I can get away with being gone for a couple hours to nap without really being missed. Plus, its not like I can really sit in the air conditioning, cook a meal with a bottle of wine, and watch a movie. Yesterday I was trying to figure out what I could do in the evenings... making money seems like a pretty good idea, so why not work if I can? I am here to buy a sailboat, then build my cruising kitty, then take off. Why should I waste half the day?

Today I left after my bus shift, shaved at work (the hotel restroom, back wheelchair accessible stall with a sink), went to the store and bought my food and coffee, went to the beach, swam, rinsed and shampoo'd in fresh water shower at the beach, ate, had coffee and a couple cigarettes, then back to work, brushed teeth, made more money as a waiter (took a 12 top because no one there knew how to it... hee hee hee, thank you Mama Lucia), and am now having a couple beers at the hostel ('cause they're cheap here and I can talk or not) while I write to my blog. The break took two hours and 19 minutes, refreshed me, and only about four tables came while I was gone.

So like I said, I'm starting to dig not having to pay rent or a mortgage. The rain is kind of a pain, but having constant access to satelite images makes it pretty easy to avoid getting soaked. My love life is going nowhere, but looking back on my life, I've often limited acting on my dreams to stay with the women I've been with. Not sure that's an accurate assessment, I may need to revisit that. If I can find a physical place to bivouac (make an encampment), I might just stay "homeless" for awhile. But you know what? Home is where you hang your hat. Right now my hat is in my truck. One more beer for some quiet time, maybe some conversation, and I'm going to sleep.

Fwd: The map is not the territory

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "mark kilburn" <mkilbu01@gmail.com>
Date: Aug 13, 2010 9:34 PM
Subject: The map is not the territory
To: <go@blogspot.com>

The map is not the territory. That comes from the Neuro-Linguistic Programming thinking in the 70's. What I think something is, how I understand it in my own reality, is not what the thing is in it's own reality. Person, place, thing; doesn't matter. As long as I know what something is, who someone is, I have cheated myself out of experiencing it's true essence.

I am sure this applies to rocks, apples, and trees, but I find the most valuable surprises when I apply it to people. Especially people I don't like, or people I do like who don't behave like I think they should. I have not met one person who I don't like that, when I suspend my dislike, and look without interpreting their motives, I don't find something beautiful. All of us are trying to do what we think is best.

Reminding myself of this when I get upset with someone makes my life much easier. Instead of feeling upset because someone rubs me wrong, I find it comforting to try to understand why they behave like they do. This exercise has led to some interesting friendships. It is also making it much easier for me now to work in a difficult environment.

Several people have come and gone in the three weeks that I've been in this restuarant. I, on the other hand, have gone from working three days a week and earning almost nothing, to working seven days a week and making a little more than nothing. But I am also forming relationships that at least make my life easier, and in the future may lead to better things. And, no one is making much money on the beach right now, and I am creating substance, gravity, in what is actually a pretty cool restuarant, and I am still here, where I want to be, not just surviving, but peaceful and satisfied. I'm not hungry, I'm supporting myself, and things will improve.

The flip-side of this coin is equally important. What others see is not who I am. If I see myself, define myself, by how I am treated, how others see me, then I am adrift without sail or anchor. Let me tell you, there are people who I love who think, and told me in no uncertain terms, that I was making mistakes in comming here. In fact, no one really thought it was a good idea. And honestly, I don't think you should try this at home. But here I am, four weeks in Miami Beach, two weeks homeless, and things are getting better.

Now, I was hungry at one point, and at another I didn't have enough money to pay my phone bill. This later is pertty important because my phone is my internet connection. It is how I see if there is a thunderstorm comming, check for job postings, email, and write this blog. My family came through for me in these moments of need. I am truly grateful. Besides saying thank you, I am trying to express my gratitude by not asking again. But I digress...

Since I was a child I have always chosen to do things my way. It has to border on neurotic, but I feel if I can't trust my own moral compass above all else, then I am lost. And its not really my moral compass, its more like my inner voice that I hope is divinely inspired. I stake my life on the existence of god and in the direction that I receive from "him". I dicided when I was young that god is either everything or nothing, and I guess I have devoted my life to the belief that he is everything. And every night when I look at the moon and the constellations, and listen to the surf as I go to sleep, that belief is reinforced. And I have to smile.

So, I'm generally pretty quiet. Unless I am bartending, I don't usually speak unless I have something to say. This tends to make people uneasy. People suspect I am egotistical, condescending, angry, stupid, or naive. Now if I measured myself by the impressions of others, I would be in trouble. I measure myself by my ability to love and serve others. To overcome fatigue, hunger, stress, anxiety, and lonliness and be able to give comfort, solidarity, and a smile when someone else seems like they need it. And when it turns out that they really did need it at that moment, and I was there to give it, I feel like my existence is justified. I feel like when I die, I will have done more good than harm. I want to have given more than I've taken. Paradoxically, the more I give, the more I receive. And the more I know, the less I learn.

The map is not the territory. What I know limits me from understanding what really is. What others think is equally limited. It is amazing we communicate at all, but we do, and we create beautiful things when we do.

The Beatles got it right, I think, when they said, "and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make". Good night John, Paul, George, and Ringo...and thank you :)

How I eat

So I'm working black in this restuarant. That means I'm off the books, and I don't get the $2.35/hr that most waiters get in the States. Strictly tips. It's July in Miami, middle of the European season, beginning of peak hurricaine season, and therefore not very profitable in the restuarant business. Europeans are notorious for not tipping, or tipping poorly. That's why most of the restuarants on the beach automatically add 18% gratuity to the check. There is a tropical low forming for the last three days, roughly centered over Key West. And like a hurricaine, tropical storms create bands of precipitation with a counter-clockwise rotation around the center. These bands have been pummelling Miami Beach every three or four hours for the last three days.

Not only am I working black in this restuarant, but when I was "hired" the busboy was a Russian kid who told me he works seven days a week, six of them doubles, and the owners only pay for 40 hours, no matter how many you work. Just as an aside, it's curious that he get's an hourly wage, even if he's only paid for half of what he works. The reason it's interesting is that a few days ago the owners noticed he was falling asleep in the middle of the day, and they asked me if I would bus on the day shift. Seven days a week. Only temporarily, until they could get another busboy. After only working three shifts in the first week of my "employment", and experiencing having to ask my family for money so I could eat, I agreed...with the stipulation that it was only temporary, until they could hire another busser.

So today was my second day temporarily working black as a busboy. Yesterday the host and servers were scolded because we had an early breakfast rush, and I took a few tables. Today I only took one table, and only because both servers were late, and there was no one else to take the table that came in. Later in the day I asked if I was getting paid hourly to bus. "Oh no, eet ees too slow now. Later, when eet gets busier, we pay you hourly. Now only teeps". Well, the restuarant adds 18% gratuity to every check. Theoretically the waiter gets 50% of that, the rest is divided between the host, the bar, and bus, by what algorithm, I don't know. That means I get, roughly, 1/3 of 50% of 18%, or 3% of the gross sales between 8:00 and 4:00. Sounds good, right? Except it's European season, and hurricaine season, and we're probably selling abot 500 U$ in that time, so I get $15 for 8 hours of work. Enough to feed me and buy cigarettes for one day. Good thing I'm working seven days this week.

I kinda fumed about that for a minute. I said the f-word a few times, and told myself I was stupid to continue in this arrangement. I went back to the owner and asked if I could pick up a few tables durring the day. He said yes. So now, I can make my 9% on every table I take, plus any cash overtips, plus 3% of the gross sales between 4:00 and 8:00. Sweet. That should work out to 40-50 U$/day, and without having to pay rent, I should be able to live and pay the couple bills I have. Of course I will be running the whole time, but that makes the time go faster. And I have to admit that my pride says I can run circles around anyone else in that restuarant. Gotta pay attention to that...pride comes before the fall.

I've discovered that the cab of my truck is actually quite comfortable, and I can use my own pillow, instead of the airmatress, I'm getting fewer parking tickets now, and I'm meeting people who like me. Humility, hard work, and patience. Everything will always be ok. Even if sometimes everything sucks.

Fwd: On being homeless

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "mark kilburn" <mkilbu01@gmail.com>
Date: Aug 7, 2010 3:38 AM
Subject: On being homeless
To: <go@blogspot.com>

I think the first thing to talk about is being homeless. I'm not sure what the definition is, but I figure having no roof qualifies. Having a truck and a job, I think, takes me out of the indigent category, but one thing I've noticed is that I spend a certain amount of thought energy seperating myself from the "vagrents" (correct spelling?); the people who just sort of leach off of society.

There are mental defectives, addicts, and con-persons. And there are old people. There are good, bad, soiled, and innocent. What I find interesting though, is my need to categorize, and to define myself as better than these, and maybe less than these... Whenever I notice I'm doing it, I stop because I know it is a waste of energy. We are all equal, we're just, definitely, on different paths.

So I see myself as a camper...a traveler. I enjoy creating comfort for myself while I live, blatantly, in the world.  I find pleasure in knowing where the clean restrooms are, where to get a good and cheap cup of coffee, and in being able to wait on people who have enough money to vacation in south beach, without anyone knowing I sleep on an air matress in the bed of my truck, and "shower" with salt water.

I guess what I'm trying to convey here is that I see myself and others comparing...defining ourselves by who we are better than, and who we are not as good as. And I guess how you do that, who "those" are, says something about yourself. But maybe a better way is to simply say "I am no better, and no worse then that person", and get on with finding the best, cheapest, cup of coffee within a 10 block walking radius.

...

Just met a guy who is a soldier in the French army. I am at the hostel where I came first. This is why I am a traveler; I find myself in everyone I meet, no matter how far either of us are from our homes...

Beginnings

I was probably in my first year of college in the early eighties when I saw a button attached to someone's backpack that read "Question Authority". Something way down in my core said, "Yeah, that makes sense". Now in my forties, I find myself homeless, barely employed, and feeling closer to my own personal truth than I've ever felt before.

At the suggestion of a friend, I've decided to start this blog because I feel like I might have something to offer others by sharing my experiences. I wait tables to make money, believe in god while self-identifying as a buddhist, and within a year hope to be living on a sailboat...for a very long time.

My life is about Service, and about Quality. Robert Persig best described Quality in his book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and Jesus of Nazareth and the Buddha are, in my mind, the definitive experts on Service. And I think it's a very good way to live to get paid for giving "quality service" to others. I always chuckle when I say those cliched words. I hope to convey my experience of both through this blog.

So I guess it is appropriate to start off with a blessing. Please let it be that this communication is divinely inspired and delivered to those who will benefit from reading. Let the message given be loving, free of self-serving motivation, and have the effect of reducing the suffering of all living beings. For the benefit of all, according to the free will of all, and so must it be.